“There are seven bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. That is my mother’s room. You will be staying in the suite right next to me. Shall we go up?” I nod as he leads me upstairs.
“Were your parents in love?” I ask. The question probably too personal. I immediately regret asking as soon as it comes out of my mouth. His head whips around, his eyes meeting mine. At first the gaze is hard, but then softens once he realizes that it’s a genuine question. I mean, why wouldn’t it be? I just heard a whole story about his grandpa dedicating his whole life to a woman. I want to know more.
“My father was very much in love with my mother. But my mother, not so much. It became apparent throughout their relationship that my mom was here for the benefits. But I don’t exactly blame her; she came from a tough life.”
We finally make it to the top of the steps, and he leads me to a small room. “This will be your room. I’m right next door if you need anything.”
“Thank you.”
DID I JUST SAY THANK YOU?
“You’re welcome.”
DID HE JUST SAY YOU’RE WELCOME?
What the fuck have we become.
ChapterTwenty-Four
Maria Alejandra
His brother’s wife is indeed horrid.
Yesterday, I met his whole family for dinner around a spacious table made of birch. I had life-changing pasta as well as some soul-shattering wine. The only thing I heard the whole time from his brother’s wife was how much she hated Bernardo. If you hate him so much, why are you with him?
Her excuse was that she has children with him, but what I concluded is that she wants his money. I don’t like coming to bad conclusions about women. I’ve been an advocate my whole life that women should support women, but Emma is the epitome of all that is annoying in the world. She just wouldn’t quit yapping.
She was also hitting on Luca the whole time. I was bothered by that, not because I’m jealous, but because she’s married to his brother!
To be honest, I really enjoyed everyone yesterday. Luca’s family life is juicy, and it’s cool to see him in a different dynamic apart from work. He’s still an asshole, even to his family, but he does seem different. He’s different around me too, which is weird.
Starting with the fact that he says thank you. We also don’t bicker as often. Don’t get me wrong, we aren’t inThe Matrix. He and I still make snarky comments to each other, but it isn’t the entirety of our conversations anymore.
Improvement, if I say so myself.
I’m back sitting in a car on my way to another part of Italy that I’m ecstatic to see. I ended up going around Florence alone because Mr. Donatello had some work to deal with. Something about parts that needed improvement for the car, so I left him to go around and see the sights. Much to his distaste, he said I would do it all wrong, so he made me an extensive list of the places to go and see.
It was great.
He would make a fantastic Italian travel agent. There were so many beautiful sights, and I even managed to take some photos while I was there.
I posted it on Instagram and Mr. Donatello was the first to like. He proceeded to text me constantly to ensure I was okay and yelled at me via text to follow his list. I rebelled a few times, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Who would have guessed this would be happening? Absolutely no one. I kind of like it too. I’m betraying myself.
Rome.
A city with history at every turn and the best gelato ever made.
As we pull into the main avenue which overlooks the Vatican, I look over at Mr. Donatello, who’s still staring at his phone like he has been for basically the whole trip.
“You’re missing it.”
“Missing what, Ale?”
“The power of entering your Capital city.”
“I’ve seen it entirely too many times.” I rip his phone out of his hand and he immediately grabs my wrist while I’m attempting to throw it out the window beside me. I don’t succeed as he tugs my wrist in his direction.